


look at how my tears ricochet

by mytardisisparked



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I hope, Obitine is going to be here but it is not the focus, Other, Songfic, Taylor Swift music, Timejumps, but not cringey, folklore was a gift, idk what you wanna call them, kind of, or ficlets, series of connected one-shots, this is about Satine and Mandalore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytardisisparked/pseuds/mytardisisparked
Summary: A look at the life and impact of Satine Kryze through the lens of "my tears ricochet" by Taylor Swift.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. weeping in a sunlit room

_Duchesses do not cry._

It was the only phrase that was keeping the burning in her eyes from becoming tears as she watched the pyres of her mother, father, and brother ignite. Sparks swirled with the smoke that drifted up into the too-bright sky, doing nothing to obscure the overbearing sun.

_Isn't this the kind of day where there should be rain?_

Satine kept her head level, refusing to lower it in grief. In front of the remaining loyal followers of the Kryze family, she must seem as strong as tempered steel. The people who were trusting her needed to know she was worthy of that trust, and the first step towards doing that would be keeping her head up, her gaze even, and her mind unclouded by sadness.

However, as she looked around the fire at the advisors that were now to defer to her, she saw doubt in their eyes - questions lay in all their minds about the wisdom of letting an 18-year-old pacifist take the throne in the middle of a civil war. Their concerns were valid, she knew. She couldn't really argue against it with anything other than "what choice do you all have? Who else could you install as Duchess when every option leads to tension and infighting?"

Beside Satine, a small sniff broke through her thoughts, drawing her back to the funeral at hand.

She turned to look at the small, ruddy figure beside her. Bo-Katan, her 13-year-old sister was dutifully keeping her head as high as Satine had, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. In the light of the funeral pyres and the afternoon sun, the splotches of red on her face looked like a reflection of the flames. After a moment, Bo's eyes lifted to meet Satine's, the pain there piercing the elder sister's heart and shattering her stoicism. 

_Duchesses don't cry, but I haven't technically been coronated yet._

With a stifled sob, Satine took Bo's hand in her own, squeezing it. Bo returned the gesture.

Later, when the unsteady leaders of their system would be debating the future safety of the new Duchess in another room, the Kryze sisters would cling to each other, taking a single evening to mourn their fallen family.

\------

_Jedi do not cry._

It was an absurd misconception Anakin had gotten into his head when he first joined the Jedi Order. It made sense why the boy had thought so, what with the discouragement of attachment and passion. Nevertheless, he was wrong: Jedi did cry. Obi-Wan cried.

The warm sun that had lit the throne room was all wrong. The sun should have hidden in anticipation of the sorrow that would soon strike. The sky should have wept with him.

The scent of Satine's lilies still lingered on his stolen armor and the brush of her hand lingered on his cheek. He knew, deep down, that the ghosts of her final moments wouldn't wash away for some time.

He sighed as he sank onto his prison cot. What would become of her body? Would the Deathwatch bury her? Would they burn her? Certainly, there would be no ceremony, but would they at least give her body some sort of closure?

He closed his eyes and, once again, saw the memory of her lifeless face behind his eyelids, drawing a fresh set of tears from his eyes.

_Oh, yes. Jedi do, indeed, cry._


	2. if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too

The city was in chaos.

Bo-Katan Kryze looked out over Sundari as fires burned, bolts of light flashed, and people - _her_ people - screamed in terror. Civilians were running as DeathWatch warriors fought Maul’s forces, futilely trying to hold their lines. Warrior after warrior fell, making each beat of Bo’s heart feel heavy, like her blood was suddenly thicker than usual.

On the second level of the city, in a building not far away, she could see some civilians fighting, unsure of who was friend or foe. In the midst of the struggle between two men, a young boy tried to pull them apart, tears streaming down his face as he attempted to stop their fighting.

Bo looked away just as one of the men fell, unable to see the rest of the scene play out.

The sight forced the woman to face a fact she knew she had been ignoring from the beginning: without a definitive leader, without Satine, the confusion would be deadly. Brother would turn on brother and Mandalore would never be the same.

As much as Bo disagreed with Satine’s policies, as much as she knew that going back to the warrior ways of old was the right thing, she had to respect the fact that her sister had held this city together by sheer willpower in a way that no one else would be able to ever again. Her influence as a leader had been powerful, and her death was devastating. 

_We needed change, but this wasn’t the way,_ Bo thought. _Satine should never have died._

Bo sighed as she turned back to the command center her men had set up to look over maps of the city, ignoring the hurt in her heart and all thoughts of her late sister. She would need to keep a level head if she were to take back Mandalore and the best way to do that would be to focus on the future, no the past.

Maul had lit enough fires over the past few days; Bo would not allow any more of her people to burn.


End file.
